


To Be Human

by Alex__trash



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Anarchy, Assassins & Hitmen, Attempted Murder, Background Character Death, Background Relationships, Bad Decisions, Bakery, Beekeeping, Bees, Blood, Blood and Injury, Breaking the Law, Castration, Cops, Crying, Cults, Cussing, Dark Past, Dead People, Death, Depictions of Murder, Disembowelment, Drinking, Drug Use, Evil, Evil Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Evil Technoblade, Gang Violence, Government Agencies, Government Conspiracy, Graphic Description, Gun Violence, Hearing Voices, Historical Inaccuracy, Homophobia, Illegal Activities, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insanity, Jschlatt is Toby Smith | Tubbo's Parent, Knives, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mob Murder, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Not Beta Read, Obsession, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Police, Private Investigators, Prohibition, Queer Themes, References to Drugs, Religious Cults, Removal of Organs, Sad, Scars, Screaming, Secrets, Slurs, Sneaking Around, Speakeasies, Swearing, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Threats of Violence, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, Toby Smith | Tubbo Loves Bees, Torture, Undercover, Undercover Missions, Upset Characters, Violence, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, Women's Rights, crying children, explicit violence, extreme violence, keeping secrets, lying, morally wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex__trash/pseuds/Alex__trash
Summary: The world was not pretty, and everyone has grown used to the ugly nature. Being afraid was not an option, so they were not afraid. No one could be, it seemed. Underneath the surface? Everyone is afraid of something, even if that something is themselves.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Antfrost/VelvetIsCake (Video Blogging RPF), Skeppy/Badboyhalo, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Kudos: 23





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> 1920’s mob au, this will not be historically accurate and could be a modern mob au but i want prohibition and illegal gays so here we are. I will not try hard, this is just going to exist. Idk how long this will be, if it is never finished please don’t be mad. Takes place in New York.  
> Ships: Skephalo and Redfrost, Wilbur and Schlatt flirt with each other, but it doesn’t go anywhere
> 
> word count: 5,154

Moving to America was quite possibly the worst decision Wilbur had made in a while, he absolutely hated it. Why he moved away from London, he would never understand. Well, that’s not true he knew exactly why he had moved, he just wished he decided to stay in Europe rather than cross the ocean to catch an uncatchable monster.

Nevertheless, here he was. Staring at the crime scene of yet another mob murder. They didn’t know how much he knew, unless they did. He didn’t think too much about it, but he knew. These murders were planned, perfectly crafted to look a specific way. To look like a serial killer.

That’s what the police believed they were hunting, a lone serial killer who was simply insane. They were wrong, there was something bigger behind this, Wilbur just had to prove it. The killer’s calling card just didn’t make sense, there had to be something more. No one took him seriously, he was just the crazy PI after all.

At least Phil agreed with him, sharing that it did seem to be mob related. Wilbur poured over connections, finding anyone who would tell him anything. So far, he only had one victim with a small connection to the mafia. It wasn’t enough, he wondered if he would ever have enough. The police never believed him, they all thought he was some cook from out of town. He was the smartest person in the state, they just couldn't see it. 

The commissioner told him to take a break, they could handle the killer on the streets. Wilbur told him to worry about enforcing prohibition, maybe the two could connect. Maybe this killer was taking out those that spilled to the police, but that didn’t add up. There was no connection to dirty police, or really to much at all. 

Wilbur snapped out of his head, bringing himself back to the crime scene. Just like usual, there was a taunt drawn in blood upon the wall. Simply an ‘A’ with a circle around it, the symbol for anarchy. Wilbur was convinced that this was the connection to the mob, they hate the government. Though the officers brought up a good point, mafia’s typically like the government because they can use it to protect themselves. Wilbur didn’t believe them, he was absolutely convinced about his hunch. He simply wouldn’t hear anything else.

The blood was rather fresh, probably only two hours at most. Yet, not a single witness. There never was, despite how public these acts were. That always pissed Wilbur off, it was clear the murder had taken place at the scene but no one saw it. How did this keep happening? Wilbur wanted to point towards deals, dirty money under the table. The cops said the killer was just smart, the cops are idiots.

In reality, about an hour and a half ago, a serial killer was on the scene. Though, there were mafia connections and dirty money. Turns out, everyone was correct at the end of the day. That didn’t matter to the killer, he was there to do a job and have fun with it. The job didn’t specify that he was to make it seem like a serial killer, that was just him. The big guy did enjoy it though, which is why he kept hiring. Simply known as ‘The Blade’ this killer was something different, even within hired killers. 

The Blade was insane, plain and simple. Crazy to the point that he always worked alone, because people were afraid of him. Even the mob head was worried about the dude, making sure to have extra protection when he came around. Blade was a loose canon, helpful and harmful all at the same time. He didn’t care who he killed, as long as blood was spilt. He would take down anyone in his way, anyone who opposed him. The anarchy symbol was all him, his little signature at the crime scene. The man behind the blade was equally as scary, though no one really knew him.

The name of blade didn’t come from nowhere, it was part of his actual name. Or at least, what they had called him. Technoblade was a weird thing to call a child, but they had done a lot more than simply name him something strange. They were the reason Techno was insane, that Blade spilt so much blood. He sometimes wondered what he would be without them, but it was a moot point. They at least got him used to working with insane, power hungry assholes. Without their influence in his mind, he would have killed Schlatt long ago.

They were there now, excited for the bloodshed about to occur. This poor bastard had apparently been giving bad information, and Schlatt decided it was time for him to be let go permanently. Techno couldn’t care less about why he was to kill this man, only that he got to kill. For being involved with the mafia, the guy had no sense of his surroundings. It was quite simple for Techno to sneak up on him and drag his soul to hell. 

Using his beautiful knife, Techno carved up the man. His body parts were scattered around, all positioned in an arrow shape. They pointed towards the symbol on the wall, dripping with gore. Drawing the symbol was easily Techno’s favorite part of any murder, taking the time and care to make the scene beautiful. At least, to them. They loved the fine details of a crime, even convincing Techno to gather blood from each victim to create a collection.

Honestly, having bloodthirsty voices pounding in his head was comforting. They understood him, they didn’t judge the Blade, and they let him be real. Slinking away to a rooftop, the voices especially loved watching their scene be discovered. Some old lady stumbled across their masterpiece, screaming and calling for the police. Techno even stuck around long enough to see that tall detective arrive on the scene, that guy was as crazy as he. 

Not his problem, he and the voices decided. Returning back to Schlatt to get the money, and perhaps another job. Most people in this life had some reason they couldn't do anything else, Techno simply loved killing. It was easy, it came naturally, and it calmed them down.

Schlatt was the furthest thing from calm when Blade arrived back at his hotel. The hit man was amazing, there was no denying that, but he was so risky. Even with his trusted Dream team protecting him, Schlatt felt a spike of fear seeing Blade walk in. The man was covered in blood and gore, still gripping his signature knife in his hand. Dream stepped forward to greet him, knowing that if he were to attack Dream had the best chance of stopping him.

“Blade, welcome back. Everything go well?”

Blade simply nodded, that dick. Schlatt was used to the man not speaking, but it still pissed him off. He didn’t let it show, obviously, but Blade still gave him a look like he knew his thoughts. The hit man always had that look, and it seemed to be true. He seemed to know everything, way too much. Schlatt didn’t question it, he wanted Blade on his side. 

Maybe having such a dangerous asset was a bad idea, but it worked well. Knock on wood. Schlatt’s iron fist was holding, but he knew there were people in his organization lying. He knew the police were on them though the commissioner was supposedly fine, according to Quackity. Schlatt knew that the man couldn’t lie to him, and apparently the commissioner had been seen at a speakeasy. Not to worry, it was the one run by Antfrost and Velvet, so he was there for a reason.

Schlatt had learned the names of the police really looking into them, learning a private investigator was the one really taking up the case. Some guy named Wilbur Soot, a British cunt who was just too smart. The commissioner, Officer Halo, was stupid apparently. He did rely on beat cops more than detectives, which made it harder to track down. Maybe he was smarter than people gave him credit for. 

There were too many people under Schlatt’s control that he didn’t trust, or believe they really were with him. Mainly Niki, Schlatt had a feeling she was angry about the bakery being used to launder money, but she was manageable. Her friend, Eret, was more of a concern. They had real power and ability, Schlatt had a suspicion that they were undercover. They couldn’t prove it, so they started a plan.

After having Dream give Blade the money, the man expressed he was willing to take another job so Schlatt jumped at the opportunity. 

“Blade, I have a job for you. It’s a little different than usual. If you’d be willing, we could discuss it?”

Blade looked up slightly, thinking about the proposition. He seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes drifting to somewhere else. Dream waited politely, shifting closer as Blade flipped the knife around. Schlatt felt his posture become better as he became more aware and afraid. Well, not afraid but concerned for himself and Dream. Beside him, Sapnap and George stepped closer to protect their leader, eyes trained on Blade’s knife. 

“Blood?”

The one word answers and questions also pissed Schlatt off, having to just guess what Blade really meant by the question. He thought over it, coming to a decent idea.

“Most likely, no blood will be split. Hopefully, this person won’t have to die.”

“No.”

The answer was almost immediate, and Schlatt fought back the need to sigh dramatically. Of course Blade wouldn’t care about a job with no murder.

“Well, Blade, if I find this person is a piece of shit spy, then you can spill their blood. That sound good?”

Blade smiled his disturbingly sharp toothed smile, excited about the promise of blood. He nodded in answer, and the knife in his hands disappeared into his coat. Schlatt felt himself relax, the dream team doing the same. Blade gave a simple wave and walked out, he was a complete asshole. Dream walked back towards Schlatt, the other members of his team also ready to go do something else. 

“Boys, imma need to check in with Quackity. Wanna come?”

They all nodded, Sapnap’s face blushing slightly. Schlatt didn’t care about the queers in his group, there were quite a few of them. They were better at keeping secrets, and they were easier to keep quiet. He was even sure there was something going on between Dream and George, not his problem. Sapnap had a thing for Quackity, and that Karl kid. Schlatt couldn’t be bothered to care, though it was good to know b=more about Karl and keep Beast under control.

Breaking away from his thoughts, Schlatt collected himself. Making sure his shoes were shiny, and his tie was perfect, he stood. Buttoning up his jacket, the dream team formed around him. George took the lead, his mild demeanor and meek appearance made him less of a target. Sapnap stood diagonally to the left of Schlatt, holding his beloved matched in his hand. Dream stood diagonally to the right, his hood and mask protecting his identity as he slinked into the shadows. Schlatt stood to his full height, a dark smile crossing his lips. Time to go visit a bar.

Quackity loved running a bar, drunk idiots were the best kind of idiots. Despite many people’s beliefs, Quackity himself never drank a drop. He loved being in charge of these underground bars, delegating Karl, Ant, and Velvet to help out. Karl was his favorite to work with, especially when Sap visited. 

Speaking of the devil, George walked through the hidden entrance. Quackity quickly greeted him, dragging Karl along with him. There weren’t many people in the bar currently, it was mid-day after all. There were a few people, passed out still from last night or starting their night off early. Soon enough, Schlatt entered the bar himself. 

Working for Schlatt was a dream, or maybe a nightmare. The man was a monster, but he knew how to do everything. He was a perfect leader, holding everyone and everything to such a high standard it was scary. It worked though, the bars alone gave them enough money to never worry about paying their mercenaries. Quackity definitely preferred this job to when he ran with the cartel, at least Schlatt didn’t sell children. He said that was too far, and Quackity definitely agreed. Maybe it was because Schlatt had a kid of his own, but Quackity wasn’t supposed to know about that. 

That was all besides the point, Schlatt was clearly here to talk about the business and probably discuss more. Karl welcomed Sapnap and Dream as they both entered after Schlatt, the four of them going towards the bar. Schlatt stuck to Quackity, and they began discussing the business.

“How is Ant doing? Him and Velvet still good?”

“Yep, Red says the police are still under the thumb. The commissioner even.”

“Make sure to keep an eye on him, the murders are getting too much attention for my liking.”

“Of course. Though, shouldn’t you bring that up with Blade?”

“Ha! You tell him that!”

“Touché”

Schlatt laughed at his own joke, though he was quite right. Quackity hasn’t even spoken to Blade, only seeing him once. That man was honestly terrifying, his hands always seemed to be covered in blood. Quackity had always been around violence, but Blade was more than humanly possible. Quackity sure wouldn’t tell the monster that he was doing something wrong, he liked being alive thank you very much.

The two continued talking, talking of opening another bar, though it was a little dangerous, maybe they could manage. They didn’t want to encroach too far into Mr. Beast’s territory. Though the two leaders were close, Karl kept the peace, they didn’t like taking unnecessary risks. Mr. Beast’s organization was a lot smaller than Schlatt's, but he had more money. Quackity didn’t even know where he got his millions, but he had them. They planned to meet with the man and discuss a new bar, talking with Karl to arrange a meeting. 

They talked for a good while, night falling and more people entering the bar as the day ended. Schlatt started drinking, Quackity deciding to keep a close eye on the known alcoholic. Karl asked if he and Sapnap could pay a visit to Ant’s bar, and Quackity agreed. He cared a lot about those two men, and he knew they would have a better time in that bar. The two left carefully, and Quackity turned to continue caring for his boss. What a life he lived, really.

Running a gay bar during prohibition was a dangerous job, but Ant was a dangerous guy. He had his boyfriend to protect him, working as a cop to keep the police away. There actually a good amount of police that came into his bar, but Ant never worried about them. He’s seen the commissioner there too often to worry about the beans being spilt. 

As the night fell, the bar became busy and crowded. It was no wonder they were making so much money. At some point, Karl and Sapnap entered the bar. Velvet had given them a wink and let them dance together in the corner. Working with his boyfriend was a god send, Velvet loved getting people together. In his own words, he loved love. Ant fell more in love with that boy every day.

The night was going well, little to no problems were raised. At some point he saw a man walk in that Velvet gave a weird look to, a cop. The young man had fear lacing his eyes, clearly an officer. Velvet went off somewhere, so Ant took it upon himself to greet the man and see what was going on.

“Hey newby! Want a drink?” 

Ant practically threw himself all over the cop, making the man’s face heat up. He knew how to keep these guys quiet, create some blackmail. It seemed to be working already, the man taking a little too long to answer the question. 

“Um, no thank you. Not yet, I guess.”

“Just here for some fun? I get it, we can have some fun. If ya know what I’m sayin’?” 

The man’s face flushed even more as Ant pushed against him, he was quite proud of his acting skills. Unfortunately, the man caught the eye of someone across the room and froze. His face fell, and he became more nervous than just flustered.

“Baby, who ya looking at? Tell me ya name, sweetheart. Fuck that guy.”

“Uh, my name is Skeppy.”

“Who’s bothering ya’?

“My boss.”

At that, Ant turned to see the commissioner sitting at a table across the bar. He’d come in so often, Ant hadn’t even noticed him, This Skeppy kid was obviously confused and afraid of seeing his boss there. The kid probably came here for an actual good time, but found himself needing to be a cop. Ant scoffed as Skeppy pushed past him to go sit with the commissioner. Asshole. The night was too good to worry about that, so Ant went to the back to gather Velvet.

Being a police commissioner in a gay bar was not something Bad wanted anyone to see. When he had found Officer Red there, he was terrified until he saw him kissing the owner. Red wouldn’t spill, as long as Bad did the same. Seeing Officer Skeppy was horrible, he knew the man was assigned to help with the speakeasy problem. Why did he have to find this one? Bad was dreading the interaction, even though it seemed Skeppy was interested in the actual bar. When Ant flirted with him, he definitely flushed, maybe Bad could handle this.

They made eye contact and Bad was going to die, this was the end of his life. Skeppy’s face went pale, Bad started saying goodbye to his career. When Skeppy pushed past Ant, and made his way over it was hell. Bad tried his best to sink into the seat, hiding himself behind his drink. Skeppy just sat across from him, new kids always had so much confidence.

“Hey, boss.”

“...hello…”

Silence filled the space between the, even in the loud bar Bad could feel the awkwardness. Neither one of them seemed to want to talk, so they just stayed silent. Bad refused to look up from the table, his eyes practically glued to a small stain. He felt like crying, like screaming, like ending it all. For all he knew, he was already dead and this was his punishment. 

“Are you here to bust ‘em?”

The question was no more than a whisper, and Bad took a moment to even realize he’s been spoken to. Once he processed the question, he simply shook his head slowly. He should be there for that reason, but he wasn’t. He was there to get drunk and have sex, what a bad commissioner he was.

“Oh… me either to be honest.”

At the admission, Bad’s head shot up. He finally made eye contact with Skeppy, who looked away. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. Maybe Bad and Skeppy could keep their job, and keep this bar. Bad prayed to a God he didn’t believe in before speaking.

“Why are you here then?”

“Same as you, I guess.”

Their eyes met, and Bad understood in a second what Skeppy really meant. Bad knew what lust looked like, in all its forms. He’s seen it in killers, with their lust for blood. He’s seen it in officers, eying a pretty girl across the street. He’s seen it in men looking at him at this very bar, and usually he would return the gaze. This was one of those times, Bad innocently batted his eyelashes and smiled coyly. 

“You want a drink?”

“God, yes.”

The two continued to drink and dance well into the night. Sharing passionate kisses on and off the dance floor, a silent agreement was made between them. Don’t ask, don’t tell. This never happened, though it could happen again. At some point, Bad caught Red and Ant grinning at the two of them. He quickly broke his gaze away from there. 

Dancing across the floor, they bumped into a lot of people. Some that Bad vaguely recognized, but none said a word. There was definitely someone Bad had arrested before, but he was just an arsonist. Not a murderer or anything, and he probably knew to keep his mouth sealed. Bad certainly did, if he wanted to keep any of the power he currently held. 

Speaking of power, in reality he had none. He couldn’t stop the string of murders, or the investigator looking into them. Bad knew they were connected to the mob, hell probably the same mob Ant and Red worked for. Bad couldn’t spill, so he tried to steer Mr. Soot away from it but he wouldn’t listen. In all fairness, the killings were serial. That didn’t mean they weren’t mafia related, but God Wilbur just did too much. Bad sometimes wondered if the man even slept. 

His thoughts were broken by another kiss from Skeppy, Bad decided he had better things to think about than work. Wilbur could die tonight, and Bad wouldn’t care at all. He was going to have a good night’s rest, especially if he got to have sex. Screw Wilbur, Bad hoped he didn’t sleep. Asshole didn’t deserve it.

Phil swears his sons are cursed, no one in his home sleeps ever. Wilbur was pacing in his office, obsessed with the case he was working. Phil couldn’t really be upset, he drove his son to be an investigator after police work didn’t bode well. He just wished Wilbur would take care of his kid, it was not Phil’s job to do that. Yet, he still did it. Despite already caring for Wilbur, and his younger son Tommy, Phil also took the care of Fundy into his own hands. The poor kid didn’t have it easy, and he loved hearing stories. At least Fundy and Tommy got along, especially when Tubbo was around.

Tubbo was always around, apparently his dad worked in business and always had important things to do. Phil had taken a dislike to Tubbo’s father, he’d only met the man once and he was a piece of shit. He always reeked of alcohol, even with prohibition. Phil couldn’t judge or arrest him, so he let the man be a bad dad and suffer the consequences. Tubbo was a great kid, Phil didn’t mind that he was always there. The kid was practically his fou- his third son. 

Phil cared about his sons more than anything in the world, when Wilbur asked to move to America he agreed. They moved into New York with no problems, and Tommy met his now best friend. The murder mystery Wilbur was working interested the younger boy, but Phil tried to keep the child away from the gruesome scene. Wilbur often asked Phil his opinion, which he was always happy to give. Tommy and Fundy loved hearing about Wilbur’s work, and even Phil’s old stories. It was good they were interested, but they were too young to really understand.

Tubbo didn’t enjoy the stories, apparently his dad had been in trouble with the law a lot. Phil believed it, the man just seemed like a criminal. Tubbo more enjoyed the garden, taking care of a bee hive he had found. Phil originally wanted to kill off the hive, but Tubbo convinced him to leave it. True to his word, Tubbo took care of the bees very carefully. Phil appreciated a kid who actually helped around the house.

Living in America was hard, but they all managed the change. It was clear Wilbur was struggling the most, throwing himself into his work. Tommy seemed to be doing better, having found a friend and having a good time. Fundy was a little young to fully understand, so Phil kept him distracted. They were very lucky, their money keeping them safe. Phil enjoyed helping out at the police station, learning about those that were helping Wilbur on the case.

There were only a few really looking into the mob, most were more worried about the alcohol sale underground. They didn’t understand how the two were connected, how naïve of them. Although, there was apparently someone deep undercover in the mob. Someone named Eret, apparently trying to help out a woman named Niki. She ran a bakery, though highly suspect of laundering money. Phil wanted to pay her a visit, but it was rather late. He hoped she was doing well, along with that undercover cop. They deserved it.

Niki was not doing well, not at all. She was stressed, to say the least. Working for Schlatt was the worst, she doesn’t even know how she got there. She didn’t want to be there, much less use her passion to hurt other people. Eret was a great help, they played the ‘man’ in the workplace to keep the government happy. They really tried to help her, but they’re only one officer.

According to Eret, the commissioner had a weird aversion to hunting down the mob. It was their belief, and Niki’s, that Officer Halo was dirty in some way. He seemed to care, but was selective about what to care about. There were rumors he was an alcoholic, so he kept certain bars secret. Niki just wished he cared more about Schlatt. There was someone who cared, Wilbur Soot. He was a little crazy, at least from the stories. He was obsessed, Niki was just tired.

Living as a woman under the control of a mob boss was not easy, and it was annoying as well. She often went to suffrage marches, but it was just another stressor in her life. Niki was always stressed, she felt like she was gonna have a heart attack.

Sometimes Schlatt would visit, and Niki wanted to disappear into the ground beneath her. Once, he had a child with him. She wasn’t supposed to know that Schlatt had a son, or as he said a weakness. She gave the child extra cookies, even decorating one as a bee for him. He was such a sweet kid, Niki had no idea how he was related to Schlatt.

Eret hated Schlatt’s visits even more than Niki did, they were very scared about him finding their police connection. She definitely understood, often protecting Eret when Schlatt would visit. With how deep Eret was, they never saw other officers unless they were dirty. It seemed all of the cops in the town were dirty, besides Eret of course. They just didn't seem to care, or they cared too much like Wilbur.

There had been a murder that morning, and it was close enough that Niki and Eret took a look at the body. Clearly killed by that new guy Schlatt had hired, apparently he was crazy too. Niki believed it after looking at the crime scenes, no sane man could accomplish that. She wondered how he even slept at night, Eret said he probably didn’t.

It didn’t matter, Niki focused on the cake mix in front of her. Thanks to Schlatt’s excessive work schedule for her, Niki was forced to work far into the night. Even after the world was asleep, and the bars awake, Niki was up baking. She couldn’t believe her bakery was such a dark place, it was meant to be so happy. Maybe staying in Germany was a better idea, she missed home practically every day.

Home was a concept that Tubbo never really understood, his dad kept them moving every day seemed to be something different. At first, Tubbo had enjoyed the constant shifting. He never had to worry about making friends, or dealing with class, his dad never let him worry about any of that. Tubbo was, of course, aware of what his dad really did. Not fully, he was still a kid, but his dad made sure he was ready when his time inevitably came. 

So when Tommy spoke about becoming a police officer, Tubbo was confused. Why would anyone want to be a part of the scum of New York? Tubbo didn’t voice his confusion, he knew that Tommy wanted to be an officer because of his family. Tommy’s family was quickly becoming Tubbo’s family as well. Phil was so kind, and he never said the mean things like Schlatt did. 

Home was where the heart was, that’s what Phil said at least. So maybe Tubbo had actually found his home, though he didn’t want to jinx it. This was the longest his dad had stayed in one place, and it also was the same time a serial killer was on the loose in the exact same location. Luckily, Tubbo was too caught up in caring for his bees that he didn’t make the connection. He had his bees, and he had his friends. He was finally happy, he wasn’t going to concern himself with murder.

Tommy’s older brother was hunting the killer, and he was adamant about a mafia connection. Tubbo didn’t think so, but he knew he couldn’t ask his dad. Well, he could but it was a bad idea. He didn’t have the guts to walk up to his dad and ask if he was involved with the murders. Maybe it was some other mob, Tubbo knew there were a few others in the area. Not for long, Schlatt always said. Tubbo knew that was supposed to be his job, rid the city of anyone who’s not them.

That would include Tommy, along with Phil, Wilbur, and Fundy. Tubbo didn’t want to hurt them, hell he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Of course, his father wasn’t too happy about that but he really had no power. He was certain that Tubbo would grow up, and take his rightful place at the top. For all Tubbo was concerned, Tubbo’s rightful place was in a garden.

There was no need to get himself involved with his father’s business, or Wilbur’s obsession. Tommy wanted so badly to be a part of it, Tubbo somewhat got himself dragged into everything. Phil let him keep away, as best he could at least. Tubbo was happy, so he wouldn’t let a few murders and obsessed people ruin that. He took care of Fundy, knowing that Wilbur and Phil really couldn’t. Tubbo loved being happy, he loved being away from his father. Home was a nice word, family was a nice word. Happiness was his new favorite word and emotion, and he refused to let that go. 

That's what it meant to be human, after all.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder, insanity, and a beehive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, and probably the rest going forward, is rather dark. 
> 
> TW: graphic depiction of murder, castration, insanity, guns, physical and mental abuse(?) of a child
> 
> the murder scene is marked if you don't want to read it
> 
> word count: 3690

Being bored was quite possibly the worst feeling imaginable, in Techno’s opinion. He absolutely hated it, especially when the voices decided it was a perfect time to speak to him. Which was always, and they hated boredom even more than Techno. They screamed at him to just take out the subject, spill the blood and leave. He knew he couldn’t, but they were never happy with that answer.

Staring at the small bakery was annoying, people walked in and out and there was no real way for Techno to get any information. He could just walk in there, but he worried about his ability to not kill anyone. So he waited, watching carefully. Days went by, Techno did not eat or sleep during this time. Not that he was particularly good at that stuff anyways, but he was even worse during these moments.

There was a young man that Techno noticed came by everyday, he had a nice accent and wore a face covering. Techno wondered how terrified his face would be as he died, how his accent would sound while begging for his life. The voices pushed him, the young man could die and no one could be upset. Right? He sure hoped so, he already decided to take his life. 

Over the next few minutes from his decision, Techno learned the man’s name. Ponk, a little strange but Techno was not one to judge. The man apparently enjoyed the cookies at the baker, along with talking to Niki and Eret. A perfect victim, killing him would put both of them on edge. He could even leave something for them at the crime scene, the voices agreed it was perfect.

**< Skip>**

Ponk soon left the bakery, and Techno carefully followed. He refused to allow him to get too far, needing Niki and Eret to see everything. Soon the street was empty, and Techno advanced quickly. His knife was suddenly pressed against Ponk’s neck, and the man’s breathing almost stopped completely. Silence fell across the street, before Ponk spoke carefully.

“I can give you money, alcohol, whatever you want. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Please, spare me.”

Techno and his voices loved this part, hearing someone beg for their life. Using such human objects like money, these things never mattered to Techno. He laughed with no emotion behind it, and pressed the knife harder against the man’s neck. He didn’t need to speak for Ponk to know that his offers failed, he quickly started speaking again to plead his case. 

“Whatever you want! Please, I can’t die!” 

Now that was truly humorous, everyone can die. Not only that, everyone will die. It just so happened that this man would die slowly and painfully. Techno turned the knife away from Ponk’s neck, and he let out a premature sigh of appreciation. Before he could even say thank you, Techno plunged his blade into the man’s gut. The sound that exited his mouth was music to Techno’s ears, a disgusting gurgle of pain and distress. He slowly twisted the knife around, scratching up the man’s insides with no remorse. Carving the man deeper, Techno pushed the blade roughly into the man’s intestines. He laughed as the man screamed and cried. His free hand reached up to his face to rip off that stupid face mask, and slam his hand into the man’s nose effectively breaking the cartilage. 

Ponk reflexively tossed his head back, groaning as it caused the knife in his gut to drag down cutting up his stomach even more. Techno chuckled darkly as he removed the knife quickly, and shoved the man by his shoulders to the ground. Ponk stumbled, turning as he did so that he landed squarely on his ass. He grabbed at his stomach, desperately trying to stop the excessive bleeding. Techno slowly stalked towards the man on the ground, a dark smile stretching across his lips slowly. Ponk tried to drag himself away, his nails dragging across the ground and bloodying up his well manicured hands. Watching the blood squirt from his fingers, Techno knelt down next to the man’s outstretched left leg. He quickly studied the leg as Ponk pitifully attempted to pull away, scratching up his nice shoes and ripping the hems on his pant leg. Techno felt his lips turning up even further, the tip of his blade dragging up the man’s leg.

The blood that spilled from the open wound was beautiful, the screams even better. He snaked the knife around, cutting a delicate pattern. Techno scoffed as one of the voices compared him to Niki, saying it was almost like he was decorating a cake. He was in fact creating something beautiful, just that no one else saw it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He sliced Ponk’s leg open with precision, crafting a design that only made sense to him. The blade ripped the pant leg along with the skin, destroying the man’s dignity along with his body. 

As the blade removed the man’s clothing, Techno noticed something that made his eyes gleam with anticipation. A tattoo, done somewhat poorly, of some cat that looked almost like it belonged on a car. He knew exactly what that meant, this man belonged to the Beast gang. Apparently Schlatt was in a little bit of a competition with them, so Techno decided he might as well spice things up. He dug the knife into his skin right under the tattoo, carefully cutting around it to preserve the image. The blood obviously soaked it quite a lot, but the idea was still clear. Everyone would know why that part of his skin was removed, Techno placed the flesh down and moved on quickly. 

Soon the knife neared Ponk’s crotch, the man tried to stop the motion to no avail. This action was something Schlatt took a clear dislike to, other than the symbol on the wall the only connection with the killings was the removal of sexual organs. Castration was exciting in a way even disembowelment wasn’t, and hearing men screech was incredible. The knife moved in a carefully practiced maneuver, twisting around his penis almost like a dance. When Techno’s knife started to slice into his shaft, Ponk let out a scream unlike anything else. Techno took his time, this was his favorite after all. He slowly cut the penis, the knife sawing the organ right off of the man’s body. After too long, but not nearly long enough, the tension against the knife faded as it reached the other side of the shaft. The blood that squirted from the stump was gorgeous, and Ponk’s desperate, broken cry was honestly laughable. 

Techno carefully placed the fallen organ next to Ponk’s still writing body, and his cries started to die down while his life faded from his body. The blood loss was getting to him, and soon enough he would be gone. Techno quickly searched in his pockets, removing the cookies he had recently purchased. He carefully removed the baked goods, scattering them around the dying form. He really was an artist, taking the blood from Ponk’s gut and beginning his symbol. He drew the A with a circle around it next to the body, placing the man’s cut off penis directly in the center. He sat back and watched as the life drained from Ponk’s eyes. Techno’s smile shifted to something softer, and the voices rejoiced. He was happy, and he had won.

**< Skip>**

He left quickly after Ponk’s breathing had stopped, disappearing back into the shadows to see what would happen next. Like he had hoped, Niki was the one to discover the body. Her cries were wondrous, she clearly got the message with the cookies. Soon, the police arrived while Niki and Eret stood to the side with fear. There was an investigator there, one Wilbur Soot who Schlatt had spoken about before. He asked the bakery owners about the cookies, though they seemed clueless. 

The commissioner called Schlatt after Niki revealed he was the owner of her establishment. When he arrived, he was absolutely pissed off. He spoke to the police and the investigator, and even to Niki. Of course, Schlatt knew that Techno had committed this crime with no reason. He never understood that concept, so he stood upset at the random violence. For Techno though, this wasn’t random. This was retribution, this was the way things had to be. There was nothing else, there was no other way. This was his existence, and his happiness. No one, not Schlatt, not anyone, no one could take that from him.

To say Schlatt was upset would be an understatement, he was more angry than words could even express. He could not believe the scene before his eyes, much less believe the man who caused it. He knew Blade was responsible for this, who else would carve some guy’s leg and chop off his dick? The problem wasn’t that Blade had killed a random innocent, the problem was that he hadn’t. The man was an operative in Mr. Beast’s organization, and the other man was sure to be pissed that one of his men had been killed. Especially in such a graphic and obvious way. He would know the connection, along with the clear taunt present.

It seemed like Blade was taunting the both of them actually, with the cookies scattered around the body. Clearly a message for Niki, which meant it was really for Schlatt. The message to Mr. Beast was more clear, the patch of skin that once housed a tattoo laying atop the man’s penis. What a fucking sight, to say the very least. How Blade even did this crap was insane, and he did it all with a smile on his face if Schlatt knew anything about the man.

Being questioned by the police commissioner and the PI digging into his case wasn’t scary, Schlatt had seen worse. Hell, worse was laying on the street right in front of him. Schlatt could manage prison, he could always get out. He couldn’t handle death, much less at the hands of Blade. He liked his dick, thank you very much. Officer Halo asked pretty basic questions, but Mr. Soot asked way more. The investigator asked the questions in a way that was clearly flirting, but Schlatt didn’t mind. He’s heard plenty of men and women shoot their shot, or pretend to. He was pretty used to it, so he threw it right back. 

“So, Mr. Schlatt, how’d you know the victim?”

“The vic? I ain’t know him, I know the witness.”

“The pretty bakery lady?”

“Eh, she ain’t that pretty.”

“Maybe this was a passion killing for her, and that’s why the penis was removed. Does the lady have a lot of men around her?”

“Ha! A lot of men my ass, her pussy’s probaby so tight that a pencil can’t even get in there!”

“And you’d know?”   


“She wishes!”

The man grinned, seemingly happy with the response. In reality, Schlatt knew nothing about Niki’s sex life, but she never went anywhere so it was easy to assume. The only person around was Eret, who was too much of a good kid to do anything. Schlatt hated that kid, maybe he should just kill him but now he had to wait. This killing would set him back a good amount, he already had a meeting with Mr. Beast and this would definitely come up. 

Schlatt watched as Wilbur spoke to Niki and Eret, asking them similar questions and also clearly flirting with Niki. It was almost laughable how much Wilbur was trying to be charming, it did work but not on Schlatt. He’s seen people like Wilbur before, and there's always something behind that charm. Schlatt didn’t need to stick around to see the mask crumble, he was around enough insanity as it was.

Staring at dead bodies was not really new, but it still unnerved him. Especially this; Schlatt knew that Blade killed with nothing held back, but seeing the aftermath of his ruthlessness was disturbing to say the least. He knew the man was insane, but seeing proof of his thoughts was difficult. Blade didn’t even think twice about killing this man, who by his knowledge was completely innocent. Schlatt never gave out names or descriptions unless he wanted them dead, and he certainly didn’t want this man dead. 

Schlatt let out a defeated sigh, making his way over to Officer Halo to ask if he could leave. The commissioner gave him the all-clear, and Schlatt slipped away before Wilbur could pester him more. There was business to be done, picking up Quackity and Karl and the way home. They both already knew, and Karl was clearly upset about it. He and Quackity were whispering under their breath to each other for most of the journey. Schlatt didn’t stop them, or listen in, he was sure to hear it later.   


When Schlatt arrived, Mr. Beast was already there. He was standing behind two of his bodyguards, and Dream who was clearly there to separate Schlatt and the other man. Karl broke away to be the first to speak with his boss, and the two spoke in hushed tones. Dream inched closer to Schlatt, protecting the man with the money as usual. Quackity and Dream made small conversation to keep the tension light, but it didn’t work very well. Soon enough, Mr. Beast was ready to speak to Schlatt himself.

The two men found themselves in a small office, with Karl standing near the door. As the mediator, he was the only other person allowed in the room but the bodyguards stood right outside. No one would try anything, or they’d risk it all. Or at least, if they hadn’t already with the stunt Blade pulled.

“So, why’d ya wanna talk Schlatt?”

“Well, I was going to ask about your bars, but it seems something has come up.”

“It certainly seems that way. You had one of mine killed, and laid him out to mock me.”

“That’s not what happened-”

“So what did happen, pray tell?”

Schlatt took a deep breath, and a quick glance towards Karl before starting to explain. He didn’t want anyone outside his tight circle to know of Blade, he was already dangerous enough, yet here he was. He spoke carefully, not wanting to upset Beast but still keeping secrets. He spoke of Blade’s recklessness, of his unending rage, and of his overly apparent need to kill. He posited that Blade wasn’t even aware that this man worked for Beast, which was likely true. To Blade, he had gone after an innocent and enjoyed it.

Beast said the castration was a step too far, and Schlatt agreed. He couldn’t stop Blade though, and he seemed to enjoy taking the penis off of a man and even the uterus out of a woman. The question of why was never answered, for Schlatt truly didn’t know. He wouldn’t bring himself to ask the monster that committed such heinous acts why he did it, he didn’t want to be the next victim. He shared with Beast that if he didn’t want to lose his manhood, he should leave Blade be. 

Karl, ever the unhelpful, positioned Blade also working for Beast. If the killer started carrying out his hits as well, it would take the target off of Schlatt’s back. Luckily, Beast declined and said he didn’t want to have to deal with a man that would kill anyone. He shouldn’t be afraid of his own men, and Schlatt wished he could say the same. He was absolutely terrified, but he couldn’t let it show. 

Blade needed to be called off Eret’s case, if he couldn’t last a few weeks before slaughtering an innocent he needed to do something else. There were real hits Schlatt needed carried out, Blade could handle those while someone else tailed Eret. If the bakery assistant was truly a cop, he would squeal the second he thought of something. Hell, he probably already did. God, Schlatt was pissed off. 

The conversation between the two bosses came to an end soon enough, and they left the room quickly. Schlatt spoke quietly to Quackity and Dream about the discussion, while Beast and Karl went off with their bodyguards. Schlatt was practically fuming with rage at this point, he had so much going wrong. It seemed like everything always went wrong, it was time to start changing that around. He needed something, that police investigator was probably the easiest to snag but he needed to be careful about it. Sometimes, Schlatt wished he had a different life. Something easier, something where he could just spend time with his son and be happy. That wasn’t his life, and it never would be. He was fine with that, he really was, it just pissed him off.

Wilbur, if he were to be described in one word, was obsessed. The murder earlier was proving him right, there was a mob connection, and that Schlatt dude was way too comfortable around a corpse. Niki and Eret had told him they worked for someone with a lot of power, so they were afraid to say too much. He understood, but even with the small pieces they gave him he was able to craft the perfect picture. A beautiful symphony that he was composing, but something was missing. His symphony was unfinished, and he couldn’t find the right melody to add in.

Something about Schlatt kept making him go back, he had found a newspaper with the man’s face on it, an article about his successful business. The picture hung on the corkboard of events, in the very middle of everything. Somehow, Schlatt was the connecting line. Wilbur just needed to know how. Luckily, he would find his answer when a young boy entered the room.

“Tubbo, you know you’re not supposed to come into my office.” Wilbur kept his voice stern, but not actually upset. Tubbo however seemed to be transfixed on the corkboard. There were no pictures of the scene up just yet, those were elsewhere, yet he still looked like he had witnessed a murder. The child’s eyes were wide, confused, and definitely scared. Wilbur slowly walked closer, kneeling to be at the kids height.

“Tubs, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my dad?”

The question came out of absolutely nowhere, and shocked Wilbur into complete silence. He knew Tubbo’s father was an asshole, but he’d never actually seen the man. Phil was usually the one to interact with the man, and he relayed the whole ‘asshole’ information. But this? Schlatt? How foolish and na ïve was Wilbur to not make the clear connection immediately? This was a huge breakthrough, if he could find more about Schlatt he would win. And the key to finding out more was standing right in front of him, holding a tattered blanket like a lifeline.

“Tubbo, your dad is Jschlatt? The business man?” The questions were laced with a dark tone, dripping out of Wilbur’s mouth like honey. Tubbo simply nodded, he looked nervous. He probably should be, considering everything that Wilbur was connecting.

This was it, his ticket to success. He needed to ask questions carefully, or maybe not. He could just force Tubbo to answer his questions, Wilbur was rather good at getting what he wanted.

“Do you know what your dad does, Tubbo?”

“Business…”

“What kind?”

“I dunno.”

The sincerity in his lack of knowledge was not really surprising, Wilbur was not the least bit shocked that Schlatt was keeping his son away from this mess. Still, Tubbo had to have information. Homes, credit cards, licence plates, anything that could lead to Schlatt. Wilbur pulled Tubbo closer by his shoulders, not stopping to wonder when he had grabbed the child. He looked carefully into the soft, innocent brown eyes attempting to see into the boy’s head. Tubbo’s eyes were usually full of excitement and love, now they were full of fear. Small tears gathered at the brim, but Wilbur didn’t care.

“Tell me, where does your father live?”   


“Wilbur, you’re scaring me-”

“Answer the question, Tubbo.”

“I don’t wanna tell yo-”

“I don’t care what you want! This is important, Tubbo, you have to tell me!”

The child paused, and finally tilted his head up in defiance. He simply shook his head, and Wilbur snapped. He shoved the child backwards, causing him to land harshly. Wilbur’s voice continuously rises, screaming at Tubbo about his inaction. How could he not understand? His secrecy would cause people to get hurt, to die! And yet, he didn’t care, what an innocent and foolish child. What Wilbur didn’t notice is that Tubbo was crying, and that the rest of his family was watching as he flew off the rails. 

A plan jumped into Wilbur’s mind and he stomped away still screaming at Tubbo. In his rage, he found his way to the backyard, his family following trying to calm him down. Phil tried to stop his son, but backed off when Wilbur drew a gun. Tommy had grabbed Tubbo, protecting his best friend. Where was Wilbur’s son, he wondered quickly. No, he didn’t care about such things.

Wilbur waved his gun around wildly, Phil stepping in front of the children to protect them. That wasn’t what Wilbur wanted to do though, he aimed the gun at Tubbo’s prized bees. Completely ignoring the shouts of fear and sadness, and Wilbur pulled the trigger. The bullet destroyed the beehive in less than a second, and Tubbo screamed out in pain. It was almost like he himself had been shot, in his mind it was the same. Wilbur dropped the gun, and turned to gloat. 

Laughing at crying children was not something Wilbur had ever thought he would be doing, yet here he was. Phil glared at his son, it looked like he barely recognized the man standing in front of him. Wilbur shouted and laughed, he was absolutely losing it. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered. Nothing would ever matter, not to him. Not anymore.

That’s what it meant to be human, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I will try to reply to comments :) I know this story probably won't go anywhere, but please don't share this to large groups. Sending it to a friend is fine, but no group chats or discord servers please. Also, do not send this to CC, or mention it to them at all. I'd like to keep this story, and the rest of my stories, within the fandom. Thank you for understanding. Leave kudos, or a comment if you liked this story! I'd love to hear theories, ideas, or any thoughts y'all have! Love you all <3


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